


Unspoken Vows, Unshakeable Faith

by msraven



Series: Trope Bingo Round 3 Blackout [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Backstory, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Military Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil didn't think he had enough experience in the field to accept Marcus' offer to join his fledgling government agency. He figured that staying with the Rangers for a few more years would help prepare him to eventually accept the position. He never expected to meet Delta sniper, Clint Barton, or how it would end up changing both of their lives. </p><p>An alternate backstory for Phil and Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken Vows, Unshakeable Faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darkmagyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkmagyk/gifts).



> Written for the Clint/Coulson Holiday Exchange for darkmagyk, who asked for "Anything where they meet and have a relationship without knowing they are both in SHIELD or pre-SHIELD, or even where they are recruited as a couple." I hope you enjoy the fic.
> 
> Special thanks, as always, to the lovely and supportive kultiras for the beta.
> 
> Heavily influenced by watching Black Hawk Down too many times. I have no actual military experience, so please forgive any mistakes made there. (chalk = group of Rangers, Little Birds are small helicopters.)
> 
> WARNING: Much of this fic occurs in a military setting with DADT in full effect. While nothing happens in the fic itself, homophobia and fear of repercussions is implied throughout. If you are sensitive to the subject, please heed the warning.
> 
> Fills the friends to lovers square on my trope_bingo card.

The first time they meet, Phil is hanging upside down inside an overturned jeep. There are two bangs on the side of the jeep and a called out "Friendlies!" before Clint's face appears in the window. His eyes are serious as they take in Phil's predicament – caught under the steering wheel and dash, with his seatbelt helping support his weight. 

"You hurt?" 

"Nothing broken," Phil relays.

Clint grins then, transforming his face into something that makes Phil's heart beat a little faster in his chest. 

"Unless you have a better idea, I think it'd be faster if we just flip the jeep back over. "

Phil forces his eyes away from Clint's dancing ones and looks around, shifting slightly to check how wedged-in he really is. "You're probably right."

"Area's secure, let me get a couple of the guys over here and we'll have you out in no time. Name's Clint, by the way."

"Phil."

"Nice to meet you Phil," Clint responds politely. "Didn't think I'd see any action my first day, but I'm glad nobody got seriously hurt. Hey Daniels! Come give me a hand over here!"

Clint's face disappears and Phil gets a view of his boots before several other pairs join them. The jeep starts to rock with no additional warning and then Phil is rightside up again, slipping out of the vehicle easily when Clint opens the door with a flourish. Phil smiles his thanks, but Clint is pulled away by the other Deltas before he can say anything. He doesn't see Clint again until breakfast the next day. 

"So is there a rule against Deltas taking to Rangers?" Clint asks as he takes the seat across the table from Phil. Without his helmet on, Clint looks incredibly young – several years younger than Phil, as opposed to several years older like the other Deltas. 

"No rule per say," Phil responds with a shrug, knowing that it's fairly obvious that the Deltas and Rangers don't often congregate together on base. "It does make the Captain a little twitchy to have us all on base together. He thinks you Deltas are a bad influence with your non-regulation uniforms, hair, and weapons."

Clint smirks and Phil has to swallow against the sudden flutter in his stomach. "Good thing I chose to sit with you then. Don't imagine that 'Perfect Sergeant Coulson' is at risk for being influenced by a lowly Delta like me."

Phil barely manages to keep for spit-taking his coffee all over Clint's face, but he does sputter embarrassingly for several seconds. "I… what? Who? Nobody calls me that."

"It's cute that you think so."

"I'm far from perfect," Phil replies and tells himself that the blush he feels on his cheeks is from the embarrassing nickname and not because Clint referred to him as cute. This is definitely not the time or place to start acting like a hormonal teenager again.

"Not what I hear, and I've only been here a day."

"What about you? You look pretty young to be a Delta."

Clint shrugs, drawing Phil's attention to the Delta's muscular shoulders and biceps that strain the seams of his t-shirt. "Some big-wig saw me shoot and decided I was worth the effort to fast-track through training. Wanted to win the sniper competition this year."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three. I met all the reqs and completed the training." Clint says, suddenly tense and ready to defend himself.

"I didn't say otherwise. So did you? Win?"

"Course I did," Clint replies, relaxing back against his seat. "You're looking at the World's Greatest Marksman."

Phil's eyebrows go up, but Clint doesn't sound cocky, just matter-of-fact.

"You think I'm kidding?" Clint grins. "I had posters and everything, though that was with my bow. Same difference, really."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, grew up in the circus and was a headliner until I joined up."

"You're fucking with me."

Clint barks out a laugh. "How many people you know would actually confess to growing up a carnie?"

"I thought you said circus, not carnival."

"Fuck. Are you always this literal?"

Phil shrugs, half expecting Clint to get up, and suddenly feeling the need to push the issue. "You're the one that sat down with me."

"Didn't say I regretted it, did I?" Clint takes a forkful of eggs and purses his lips in thought. "I bet you're a city kid. I'm thinking Chicago and I'm right, aren't I?

"That was just a wild guess."

"Nah, you've got an accent."

"I do not."

"You do too or you wouldn't be blushing right now."

"Fuck off," Phil says with no malice behind it, chuckling slightly. "It's hot in here."

"What? 'Perfect Sergeant Coulson' ain't allowed to blush?"

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Part of my charm," Clint responds with waggle of his eyebrows and Phil laughs. 

It's then that Phil realizes that this is the first time he's really felt at ease on base. He's never felt out of place – there's a reason he joined the Rangers – but Phil hasn't had anyone act this relaxed around him in a long time. Clint is right, Phil does have a bit of a reputation, and despite his teasing, Clint seems to be the only one who doesn't care about any of it.

~^~

Breakfast together becomes a regular thing for the two of them and Clint doesn't stray far from his first impression. He is cocky, charming in a brash sort of way, and enjoys skirting the edge of propriety. He's a breath of fresh air in Phil's otherwise ordered life and he eventually stops questioning why Clint has chosen him to befriend – they have a lot more in common than what it would seem on the surface.

Every once in a while, they get a quiet evening to themselves to sit against one of the makeshift buildings as dusk falls around them. Clint proves much quieter in private – thoughtful and more intelligent than his normal, boisterous persona. Phil basks in the knowledge that Clint is willing to show a part of himself that he doesn't share with others and reciprocates, sharing his own dreams of the future alongside stories of his childhood. Phil slowly, but steadily, begins to fall in love with his new best friend.

Phil has always known he was gay. It's nothing he's ever advertised – his parents know, which is all who really matter – and he's never let it define or hold him back. He's smart enough to know the limits of society's acceptance and knew what it meant when he decided to enlist in the Army. He has high hopes for the future, but for now, it's about survival. Even if there were any chance that Clint returned his feelings, DADT is still heavily enforced and neither of them can risk a dishonorable discharge. Phil learns to keep his non-platonic feelings in check, hides his body's reaction at having Clint closeby, and makes absolutely certain that they never end up in the showers at the same time. He never expects it all to go horribly wrong and horribly right at the same time.

It's a standard protection detail. They're picking up a person of interest and bringing him back to base for questioning. Phil's chalk is responsible for the perimeter around the convoy, with the added protection of Delta snipers circling overhead in Little Birds to provide cover. Clint, since the commander learned of his amazing eyesight, always ends up with these assignments and Phil feels an extra dose of confidence knowing that Clint is watching his back. 

The operation is successful, if boring, and they're just about to pile back into the humvees when two near-simultaneous shots ring out. Phil instinctively starts to duck and feels something ricochet off his helmet. The force is enough to whip his head to one side and he's momentarily stunned as more shots start to rain down on the convoy. Phil spins around to return fire, eyes falling on an already dead hostile before his training takes over with one goal: get everyone out safe. It's a frantic ten minutes before the hostiles fall back and the Deltas' cover fire allows the convoy to leave the area. 

Most of the Little Birds have already touched down by the time the convoy rolls back onto base. Phil is pulled out of his humvee and shoved into the command tent without warning, to find the base commander screaming in Clint's face. 

"What the fuck do you think you were doing out there, rookie?! We do not fire unless we are fired upon! Are you too dumb to understand a rule as simple as that?!"

It takes every ounce of Phil's sense of self-preservation not to march across the room and sock the commander in the jaw. Phil sees the flinch in Clint's eyes and pulls off his helmet to keep his hands occupied, telling himself that he can only make things worse. That's when he notices the gash across his helmet – a remnant of the bullet that had been intended to kill him. His eyes widen as the full weight of what happened out on the op sinks in. 

"Leave the kid alone, Mike," Colonel Harris says calmly as he enters the tent. Harris had been the highest ranking officer in the convoy. "Barton was doing his job. If those damned eyes of his hadn't spotted those shooters, Coulson and his chalk would be bleeding all over your medics right now."

"He fully admits to firing before the hostile."

"The hostile was going to shoot anyway," Daniels, another Delta sniper, cuts in. "If Barton's shot hadn't caused him to go wide, Coulson'd be dead."

"And you have no way to prove that."

"The shots were right on top of each other," Phil tells them. "I wasn't the only one there that can testify to that. The hostile was definitely in the process of pulling the trigger when Cl– Barton took his shot."

"Either way, there'll need to be a disciplinary hearing. Will probably be tomorrow once I call this in, based on how closely they're eyeing us. Better get all your damn stories straight before they get here."

The commander storms out of the tent, but none of the tension leaves with him. Harris walks over to Clint and places a hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently until the sniper meets his eyes. 

"Don't let all that bluster fool you. You did a good job out there. Disciplinary will prove that. We have your back soldier, you hear?"

Clint nods jerkily, but it's clear that he is far from reassured by the colonel's words. He turns and leaves the tent without once looking at Phil. 

"That boy's got the look of someone who's about to do something monumentally stupid," Harris says and Phil's eyes snap up. "Think you can maybe keep him from doing whatever the hell he's thinking of doing?"

Phil opens his mouth before shutting it with a click and just nodding silently. 

Harris walks by and pats Phil's shoulder. "Good man."

"I'll keep the others away," Daniels adds. "Give you some time to talk. Let's go."

Phil follows Daniels into the main barracks, making a point of not looking at anyone else as he walks across the common area and into the rows of bunks on the far end. He knows that Clint lucked out and got one of the bunks near the back wall, but has always stayed away. Phil finds him now, pacing agitatedly between bunks. As Phil steps closer, he notices a partially packed duffel on one of the beds. 

"Clint? What are you thinking? Talk to me."

"I can't go in front of a disciplinary," Clint says with an edge of hysteria in his voice. "I gotta go. I don't have any other choice."

"What? You mean go AWOL? Why? You heard the Colonel. We'll all stand behind you."

Clint continues to pace and still hasn't looked at Phil. "It's not… _fuck._ They'll figure out that I wasn't even supposed to be there. Then they'll ask why and… fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't have this coming down on you."

"Clint, stop and look at me for a second. What are you talking about?"

Clint stops pacing, but keeps his head bowed for several more seconds before finally looking up at Phil. His eyes are filled with a turmoil of emotions, fear foremost. 

"It wasn't my turn to go out today. I bartered with Ramirez because I wanted, I _needed_ to be there to make sure you were safe."

Phil's heart starts to pound with a mix of fear and hope. "That's understandable. We… we're friends."

"That's just it, Phil, it's more than that for me." Clint flops down to sit on his bunk and buries his face in his hands. "Please don't freak out on me, but I… damn it! It doesn't matter. I can tell them it was all me. You didn't know and this doesn't have to fuck up your career. I know it's one-sided. They can't blame you."

"Clint…"

"You were a friend and I fucked that up like I fuck everything up. If I can't sneak out before they get here, you have to let me take the fall no matter how good a friend you want to be."

Phil drops down to kneel at Clint's feet, grabbing his shoulders and giving them a little shake. "Clint. Look at me. Please." Clint drops his hands and his feelings are written clearly on his face. "What you're telling me, if it's what I think you're saying, then it's not one-sided."

Clint's eyes widen and Phil can only hope his own emotions are plain to see. 

"I love you, Phil. I'm _in_ love with you."

"I love you too."

Phil smiles at Clint's gasp and then closes his eyes. He slips a hand to the back of Clint's neck and brings their foreheads together, their mouths so close that they're sharing a breath. Phil wants to kiss Clint so bad that his bones ache with it. He doesn't move any closer and neither does Clint, an unspoken refusal to taint their first kiss with fear.

"This is not quite how I imagined this moment." 

Phil feels Clint's huff of choked laughter on his lips. "Yeah, well… welcome to my life. We are so screwed."

Phil pulls back so he can look Clint in the eye. "We don't have to be. Neither one of us knew until now. You were, you _are_ my best friend. It's understandable that we'd want to watch out for each other. That's all they need to know."

"And if they don't believe us?"

"They have to. They have no evidence because we haven't done anything wrong."

"And after? It's been hard enough holding back before. Now…"

Phil hand flexes on Clint's neck. He's absurdly glad to find out that he wasn't the only one suffering these past few months. "I know. It won't be easy, but we'll figure something out. Just… promise me you won't run away or sacrifice yourself for me. If we run or if we fall, we do it together, okay? Promise me."

"How are you real? Yeah. Yeah, I promise."

Phil gives Clint's neck one final squeeze and stands, putting distance between them before the temptation becomes too great. "I have to check on my chalk. Get some rest and let me think on it, okay?"

"Okay. I love you, Phil."

Clint's voice sounds so small that Phil can't help taking a step forward and brushing a quick kiss over his brow. "I love you too, Clint."

Phil walks away from Clint's bunk and heads out to the common area. He gives Daniels a nod in acknowledgement as he goes to check on his chalk, who nods back with a relieved smile. Phil does his job and stows his gear, running a finger over the gash in his helmet while his gut churns with apprehension, even as his heart suddenly feels full to bursting. 

It's not until Phil walks back to his own bunk that the idea strikes him. He digs through his bag until he finds the small blank card with a number scrawled across it. He waits in line for the satellite phone and tries hard not to fidget impatiently as he waits for his turn. The call connects quickly and a familiar voice answers, as promised.

"Hey Marcus," Phil says into the phone. "Any chance your offer is expandable to a two-for-one deal?"

~^~

Less than twenty-four hours later, Phil and Clint are on a transport to Ramstein, en route to New York. There is no further talk of a disciplinary hearing. They switch to a civilian airline for the last leg to New York and it's only when they step out onto the curb at LaGuardia that Phil's shoulders relax. He smiles at Clint and lets it widen to a grin at the gobsmacked expression on the other man's face.

"Come on," Phil prompts, "let's catch a cab."

He gives the cab driver the address Marcus had given him and is as surprised as Clint when they're deposited in front of the Four Seasons hotel in Manhattan.

"Who is your friend exactly?" Clint asks, looking up at the lavish hotel.

"I've known Marcus since high school. It… looks like he's definitely moved up in the world."

"Worst they can do is kick us out, right?"

Phil shrugs and walks into the lobby. He is no more comfortable at the high-end hotel than Clint, but the staff is friendly and welcoming despite the scruffy clothes they'd thrown on before boarding the plane in Germany. 

"Welcome to the Four Seasons," the clerk says with a sincere smile. "It is always a pleasure to have military personnel with us. Your stay and any other accommodations have been taken care of in advance. Will you require one room or two?"

"Just one, please," Phil answers and Clint nods in agreement.

"Excellent. You'll be on the fiftieth floor in one of our [Studio Suites](http://www.fourseasons.com/newyork/accommodations/suites/panoramic_studio_suite_with_terrace/) facing Central Park. Here are your keys and a note that was left for you. We hope you enjoy your stay with us and welcome to New York."

She hands Phil their keys and an envelope before waving to a bellman. They follow in silence, up to the fiftieth floor and into their room. The bellman leads them past a terrace and down a small hallway, to the main room where Clint is immediately drawn to the large picture window and the amazing view of Central Park. The bellman waves away Phil's offered tip, saying it's already taken care of, before offering to send up dinner. Phil accepts – they're several hours past due for food – closing the door behind the bellman, and walking back to watch Clint look out at the city.

"You sure I'm not still asleep in my bunk?" Clint asks, turning towards Phil. "Cuz this – the flight, hotel, and you – all seems like a dream."

"It's not a dream, unless it's mine."

"Sweet talker," Clint smirks and then holds out a hand. "Hey. C'mere."

Phil steps forward, letting Clint use their joined hands to pull him closer. It should feel awkward, but it's not. Nothing has ever felt as natural as walking into the circle of Clint's arms and leaning forward into a tender kiss. It's not much more than a gentle press and slide of their lips against one another, yet it's enough to send a shiver of anticipation down Phil's spine.

"Food's on the way up," Phil tells Clint reluctantly when they break apart.

"Is that your way of telling me that I can't strip you down and have my way with you just yet?"

"Not just yet," Phil advises, but can't keep himself from pressing closer and giving Clint another kiss. Clint's arms tighten around him as he deepens the kiss, leaving them both gasping for air.

"You don't play fair."

Phil hums and dives in for a quick nip at Clint's lower lip before stepping back.

"Tease," Clint accuses with a grin.

"Says the man who always ended up playing on the skins side during basketball."

"What can I say? I'm a showman," Clint smirks and then angles his head toward the back of the room. "Speaking of skin, I'm gonna go wash about a day and half's worth of travel grime off. Want to help wash my back?"

"Somehow, I don't think it's your back that needs my attention. Now go, before I decide you're being too cheeky for me to share my dinner with you."

Clint laughs as he walks off, his shoulders relaxed, and Phil feels a swell of pride that he was the one who removed the cloud of tension and fear that had been hovering over them. He spends a few minutes looking out at the view before walking over to his duffel and pulling out his own set of fresh clothes. Phil then remembers the note the front desk clerk had given him and has just slipped the card out of the envelope when Clint emerges from the bathroom.

"What's it say?" Clint asks, still toweling his hair dry. Phil looks up to find Clint wearing only a bathrobe that's loosely tied around his waist, leaving a tantalizing view of his muscular chest underneath. Phil has to swallow a few times before he can speak.

"It, uh… it says for us to get some food and rest up. Marcus wants to meet with us at a diner a few blocks away for breakfast."

Clint smirks, but doesn't call Phil on the stutter. "It'll be nice to sleep in a real bed again."

That draws Phil's eyes to the king-sized bed against the wall and he has to forcibly remind himself that someone will likely be knocking on their door in a few minutes. 

"Me too," he manages to croak out, making Clint grin, but two can play at this game.

Phil walks by Clint on his way to the bathroom, trailing his fingers along Clint's bare skin as he passes, eliciting a gasp from other man. Clint grabs his wrist before he can slip away, pulling Phil in for another kiss. There is no mirth or teasing in this kiss – it's full of pure, unadulterated hunger. Phil is dazed by the time Clint finally wrenches himself away.

"The food better be fucking amazing."

The muttered comment startles a laugh out of Phil. Clint fakes a growl and makes a shooing motion towards the bathroom. Phil complies without another word, showering, and shrugging on a pair of well-worn jeans and a t-shirt before walking back into the main room. The smell of the steaks he'd ordered hits him as soon as he opens the bathroom door and his stomach growls loudly in response.

"Food's here," Clint announces. Phil is a little disappointed that the sniper has decided put on a pair of gym shorts and another one of his tight t-shirts.

Phil joins him at the small table and they make quick work of their steaks, neither of them needing to mention that the food is pretty amazing, especially after months with nothing but the on-base commissary. A quick call down to room service has the remnants of their meal swept away as efficiently as it had been delivered, and they are finally left alone with no further interruptions until morning. 

After all the build up, Clint suddenly looks shy as he draws Phil across the room until they're standing at the foot of the bed. 

"I experimented a bit when I was still with the circus, but I haven't really been with… well, anyone in a while. Not since I enlisted. I'm, uh, clean per my last checkup."

"Me too," Phil responds. "To all of it except the circus part."

Clint smiles, breaking some of the tension. "So I guess we'll just wing it from here?"

Phil's brain shorts out a little at all of the possibilities in front of them, but for now, he needs to be doing more touching and less talking. He pulls Clint in for a kiss and then another, slowly stoking the fire between them until they're both breathless with need. 

"How about we start with getting undressed and laying down?" Phil suggests. 

Clint nods emphatically and surprises him by pulling at Phil's clothes first. Phil lets himself be stripped of his shirt, jeans, and underwear, laying back on the bed and watching eagerly as Clint flings off his own clothing. Phil looks on, enraptured, as all of Clint's gloriously chiseled body is finally bared to his gaze. Clint doesn't give him much time to look his fill, quickly crawling up the bed and settling over Phil, making them both gasp at the contact of skin against skin.

It's over unsurprisingly fast after that – too many years of abstinence and months of longing between them. Clint levers himself off the bed and Phil with a groan, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a wet washcloth. 

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed," Clint says as he makes gentle swipes over Phil's still-tingling skin with the washcloth. 

"Flattered," Phil responds and pulls Clint back into the bed. "Definitely flattered."

~^~

Phil is woken early the next morning by Clint's enthusiastic blowjob, which Phil gladly reciprocates. Their military training refuses to let them sleep in, despite the jet lag, so they head to the diner over an hour before their scheduled meeting. They order breakfast, figuring that Marcus won't mind, and talk over inconsequential things like they do every morning. Aside from the difference in location, nothing has changed.

Around the time of Marcus' scheduled arrival, Clint gets up to use the restroom, which is when Phil's oldest friend walks into the diner. 

"Marcus."

"Cheese."

They greet each other with warm hugs and Marcus slides into the booth across from Phil. 

"I have to admit that the last thing I ever expected was your needing to go in front of a disciplinary."

"It was more about me, than anything else," Phil corrects. "But Clint–"

"Fury?"

They both look up and Marcus inclines his head when he sees Clint.

"Barton. Good to see you again."

Phil slides over to let Clint take the seat next to him. "You guys know each other?"

"Sort of?" Clint answers. "He tried to recruit me after I won the sniper competition."

"He declined," Marcus adds, "said he felt like he needed more experience under his belt. Sound like anyone else we know, Cheese?"

"I thought you said your friend's name was Marcus? And who's Cheese?"

Phil opens his mouth to answer, but Marcus beats him to it. "I am Marcus, at least to old friends. But most people, like you, now know me as Nick Fury. And you're looking at Cheese."

"It's a long story," Phil cuts in before they can get distracted. "You tried to recruit Clint?"

"He's the Amazing Hawkeye, of course I did. Like I told you, SHIELD only recruits the best."

"Did you… send him to me?"

Marcus laughs and leans back against the back of the booth. "Nah, I'm not that good. Wish I'd thought of it, knowing that it would get me both of you at once, but no. Seems like fate's just on my side."

Phil can see that Clint is still trying to come to terms with everything, but feels unexpectedly reassured that it was blind luck that brought them together, versus someone else's meddling. He reaches out and grips Clint's hand where it sits on the table.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Phil asks, leaning a little more into Clint's side.

"Nah," Marcus answers with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Many of us may come from the military, but we're far beyond their outdated policies. Fraternization is moot since you guys are coming in together. If anyone gives you any trouble, Barton here has my blessing to put an arrow in their ass."

"You'll let me use a bow?" The pure joy in Clint's voice and on his face makes them both smile.

"We have a lot of plans for that aim of yours, Barton," Fury answers and then stands, holding a hand up to keep them from doing the same. "There'll be a car at the hotel to pick you up on Monday morning. You two take the weekend, get some R&R. You're gonna need it."

Marcus' eager grin minimizes the impact of his ominous words and Phil can't help asking, "That's it?"

"You guys were gonna get recruited one way or another," he shrugs. "This only helped move the timetable up a few years."

"Thanks, Marcus."

"Yeah, thanks Fury."

"Nah, don't thank me. Just invite me to the wedding when they eventually make it legal."

Phil starts to sputter a protest, but is stalled by Clint's simple, "Yes, sir."

"That's what I thought," Marcus laughs and walks away.

Clint blushes and ducks his head, biting his lip before turning to Phil uncertainly. "That's assuming you agree, of course."

Phil knows he should say that it's too early for that kind of commitment, but he knows deep down that there will never be anyone else for him after Clint. Whether it's fate or luck or predestination, there is no changing it now for either of them.

"I do."

It takes several more years for it to become official, and by then the piece of paper they get is less important than the unspoken vows they make that morning in the diner. They know that what's real is the love they share and they hold true to that promise through every dodged bullet, every near-death experience, and every drop of blood shed between them. When they finally speak their vows out loud, it's with strong, confident voices and a never changing, unshakeable faith in each other.

~ _fin_ ~


End file.
